


Connections

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-15
Updated: 2002-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the incidents in Red, Martha Kent's suspicions are proven correct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connections

## Connections

by mowse

<http://www.livejournal.com/users/howsemowse>

* * *

It was instinct that woke her, despite the fact her womb had never born a living child. Martha Kent's bond with her adopted son ran deep. On occasion she found herself speculating whether or not that bond had something to do with his alien origins, or if it was simply something naturally occurring between a child and the one he learned to call mother despite a blood tie. 

She'd always been aware of his comings and goings. As he'd aged Clark's stamina increased with his strength, allowing him to go longer without sleep than human boys. Like most teenaged boys he did like to sleep, and tended to be a late riser when he did stay abed all night, but when he was distressed, or busy puzzling out some mystery, Clark was frequently up and out at all hours. Sometimes he went days without engaging in more than two or three hours of cat napping. 

Martha knew this, and rarely felt concern, but since Clark's encounter with the mind altering effects of the red meteor rock, Martha had kept a watchful eye on him. Three days in a row she'd been wakened by the sound of his door opening down the hall, and the quiet tread of bare feet as he descended the stairs. He knew how to avoid the squeaky places in the floor, but at seventeen and well over six feet in height, he could not move in complete silence. 

She lay in silence for a moment on this, the fourth night of Clark's restlessness, before coming to a decision. A moment later she had pulled on a pair of sweats in addition to the T-shirt and underwear that were her usual sleep attire, and left her husband snoring blissfully in their big four poster. Martha's descent down the stairs was much quieter than Clark's. Even Clark was unaware of her presence downstairs until she actually approached him. 

He sat on the sofa watching television with the sound turned down. The only light was from the pictures flickering across the screen. It cast its strange blue-white light across Clark's face, highlighting his high cheekbones, and creating shadows beneath them in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes glittered in the light, but Martha could see the weariness in the lines around them, and the smudges of fatigue beneath them. Guilt, and something else, was eating at him. Martha knew him far too well. 

She sat down beside him. He held in his hands Jonathan's favorite mug. It was filled with coffee, inky black coffee. Caffeine had little or no effect on Clark, but he enjoyed drinking coffee despite it tasting like "melted road tar" because, he said, the warmth of it and its pleasant scent were comforting. "Like home," he would one day claim in a distant future. "It reminds me of home." Home being Smallville, Kansas, and not a extinct planet in a far away galaxy. 

None of that future, however, was known to Martha as she tucked her bare feet up under herself on the couch in the living room of a little yellow house. 

"What're you watching?" 

"Infomercial. Did you know you could harness the cleaning power of lime juice for just nineteen-ninety five plus shipping?" He grinned over at her. "But wait, there's more..." 

Martha chuckled. 

Clark sipped at his coffee. "I made a fresh pot," he said. "Would you like some?" 

"Clark, it's the middle of the night. No." 

He shrugged. 

Martha reached over to run her fingers through his hair. It was tousled and in disarray. His T-shirt and the pajama pants he wore were wrinkled. Obviously what little sleep he'd gotten that night hadn't been restful. She spent some time toying with the curl of his hair at the back of his neck before he looked over at her again. Her expression was gentle, and she knew he recognized it for what it was: an inquiry. 

"I didn't mean to wake you, Mom. I'm sorry." 

"I was awake. I've heard you the past three nights, Clark. What's wrong?" Martha withdrew her hand, placing it on his arm. She could feel the strength of him just in the light touch, usually she couldn't. He was tense, upset. "Is it because of what happened?" 

He nodded. 

"Honey, you couldn't have known." 

"I know, and it's not that really. I just...." He hesitated, looking down into the darkness swirling in the coffee cup as if he were divining the future in its depths. "I slept with Jesse, Mom." 

It wasn't a surprise. Martha had held on to some suspicions about what had happened during Clark's "best night of my life." She'd heard from Lana early, discovering that Clark had abandoned her to go off with Jesse, and he had not returned home until nearly noon. Martha discovered the clothes he'd worn to the bar in a discarded lump in the upstairs bathroom. They'd stunk of alcohol, smoke, cheap perfume and sex. There had been a condom in the back pocket of his jeans, and a receipt where he'd purchased the box, along with several crumpled dollar bills, in a front pocket. 

Martha had not revealed any of her findings to Jonathan, nor had she voiced her suspicions. If Jonathan had drawn any conclusions of his own from Clark's declarations, or the unusual preoccupation with Jesse's well-being after everything was over, he had not spoken of them to either Martha or Clark. Martha knew the truth of the matter when Clark's eyes had grown distant and his voice soft... 

<i>"I hope she's all right."</i>

He was desperately trying to find caring where none existed, because without the influence of the red stone, Martha doubted Clark could have had sex with someone for whom he hadn't a care. In retrospect his imagination was trying to compensate for the fact he <i>had</i> taken Jesse without caring, and would have thrown her away for whoever else came along to catch his fancy. He sought to bandage the guilt. 

"I'd guessed," she said softly, caressing his arm. "How do you feel about that?" 

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Confused, guilty, sick." Raising his eyes to hers, his expression told her of the pain inside. "Mom, it wasn't that it was a bad experience. I mean it wasn't but..." 

Martha sighed. "Not how you pictured it? Not what you wanted?" 

Clark nodded. Flipping off the television, he turned on one of the end table lamps. The light was muted, but somewhat more comforting than the eerie glow of the t.v. 

"I always pictured my wedding night, and Lana." He blushed a little, ducking his head. "I thought I loved her. I've been obsessed with her so long, and when I kissed her that afternoon - Mom, I - I don't know what happened." His hands shook a little. "It was like my eyes were opened. I wanted her but - there was no love there." 

"And with Jesse?" Martha asked softly. 

His silence was so long she had to prompt him. 

"If you'd rather talk to your father...." 

"No!" His eyes widened with alarm. "No, no. Please, I need to talk to someone and I - don't think Dad will understand." 

Martha frowned. She wasn't sure where he was going, but she nodded. "Clark, you know you can always confide in me." 

"I know, Mom but this is so hard." 

Clark quickly sat his mug down before he spilled it, and ran his hands over his face, rubbing at one eye as if trying to prevent tears. It was a gesture Martha remembered from his childhood, when he tried not to cry by thumbing at his eyes with an almost angry twist. He'd always been a happy kid, until he'd become painfully aware of his differences, and in the past year, his origins. Now Martha sensed the deep seated core of unhappiness he kept buried beneath everything else. He appeared to be merely moping around with typical teenage angst, but underneath it all he was miserable, and probably more than a little afraid. 

Martha understood it far better now, after seeing his personality warped by the ring. For the first time in her life she'd been afraid of him, but more than that, she'd been afraid <i>for</i> him. She didn't like to think of what would have happened had he not been stopped. Someone would have been killed, maybe many someones, by Clark's hands. He would have been discovered, and if they could not have captured him, they would have killed him. Jonathan would have killed him, and that, in turn, would have been devastating to Jonathan. 

Clark had been stopped, and he retained his memories of everything he'd said and done under the ring's influence. He was now afraid of himself, and the power of his feelings. It made him withdraw a little more. Martha had sensed him becoming more introspective, yet more observant of what was going on around him as well. He became an impassive watcher, stepping in only when he was needed; he became more alien. There was something of a coldness to him now, but his recent preoccupation and restlessness spoke of something else going on in his head, something struggling to break free. 

"What is it, Clark? What happened with Jesse?" 

He toyed with his hands. "I had sex with her, but during - I didn't think of her at all. I - I imagined someone else." A deep sigh, and he bit his lip. "And I realized something I'd been feeling for a long time, but was scared to - admit - to myself." 

Martha's heart ached. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to say. "It's Lex, isn't it?" 

Clark's head came up like a startled horse as he sought her eyes. 

"Isn't it?" she repeated. 

He made a small strangled noise, as if he were trying to speak, and failing to find his voice, he simply nodded. 

Martha knew, or rather, suspected, that the "best friend" appellation Clark had given Lex masked a deeper emotion. She'd also realized Clark was unaware of it. The awareness had apparently come with the fulfillment of his desires; kissing Lana, losing his virginity. Those desires weren't what he truly wanted at all. What he'd really wanted had been reflected by the one whom he'd sought to emulate in attitude, and dress. 

Lex. 

Who Martha had found lingering in the barn when she'd gone in to make an attempt to box up and return the junk Clark had purchased. He'd been sitting on a bale of hay, incongruous in his expensive clothes and with his soft, clean hands. His eyes, dark grey in the dim light of the barn, were wide and gentle as he saw her enter, far from the cool, sophisticated air he normally affected. He was, Martha realized almost immediately, unhappy and - frightened. 

"Where's Jonathan?" she'd asked him. 

"He and Peter went to the mansion." 

Martha frowned. 

"Clark's there." 

"I see." 

She had tried to mask the fear in her voice and in her expression. Jonathan had made known to her his plan for stopping Clark. If it failed she could lose both of them. 

"Mrs. Kent, what's wrong with Clark?" 

"What do you mean?" She'd shrugged, and avoided his steely gaze. "Just some teenaged rebellion. From what I've heard about your reputation, Lex, you should understand." 

Out of the corner of her eye she'd caught him biting his lip. He looked thoughtful, and there was a return to the cool, calculating businessman. It was odd, how he could at times seem so young, and at others - so old. 

"He came to me and asked to borrow the car," he said, his words somewhat distant, as if he were talking to himself and not her. "That was odd enough, but when he came back..." His eyes had caught hers. "It wasn't Clark." 

"He's not been himself." Martha admitted. 

"I don't know what you're hiding, Mrs. Kent - you, your husband, Clark - but this has something to do with it, doesn't it?" 

Martha had paused, and braced herself, withdrawing her normal congeniality towards him. "Clark and his father had a disagreement. Clark's feeling a bit rebellious, its a stage every normal teenager goes through." 

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than me." Lex said softly. "And before you repeat back to me what your husband is so fond of telling me about keeping out of your family's business, I want to tell you that I know something isn't right with Clark. I'm concerned as his friend, and I want to help. He's at the mansion and I just sent his father there. Clark came to me for protection. I betrayed his trust, the least you can do is tell me I'm right." 

Martha had remained silent. 

"There's something wrong with him isn't there?" 

She'd looked down at her hands, and she'd started crying. He'd risen from the haybale to embrace her and she'd felt him shaking against her. When she'd raised her head to look at him, was when the fear in his eyes had become very clear, along with something else. 

"I think I'm in love with him, Mom." 

Martha returned her attention to the present. "Clark..." 

"But I don't know if I can trust him. He's asked so many questions about the accident, and he was with Nixon..." Clark's voice choked off and he inhaled deeply before continuing. "But whatever he's gained from any of his poking around he's never used, never mentioned, has always kept to himself..." 

"Clark..." 

"And he's so obsessive, I can't help but thinking..." 

"That he might have the same feelings towards you?" 

Clark lowered his eyes, and nodded. "Sometimes I catch him looking at me. He doesn't see me look but I can see it there in his eyes. Mom, he's not like his father. He would never take. When I was - sick - he could have dragged me off to Metropolis instead of handing me over to Dad, but he didn't. I was ready. I would have gone with him." He paused, swallowing heavily. "I would have done - anything - he'd asked me to do." 

"He knew you weren't yourself." Martha said quietly. She felt cold all of a sudden, and she pulled the afghan from the back of the couch to wrap around her shoulders. "He was worried about you, just as all of us were." 

"So you think I'm mistaken?" His eyes were pleading, but whether he wanted the answer to be yes, or no, Martha could not ascertain. 

"Do you think you're gay, Clark?" 

The pleading expression was replaced by misery. "I don't know. Yes, maybe, how do I know? I'm not human, Mom? How can I know if my disappointment with Lana and Jesse is because I'm alien, gay, or something else?" 

He stood abruptly, pacing in front of the couch. His hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair and plucked nervously at his shirt. 

"When I kissed Lana, I realized that maybe she wasn't what I wanted at all. I went with Jesse because I thought I could make her jealous, make her want me instead, and when she got angry and went away I found out I didn't care. So I went ahead and slept with Jesse." His steps faltered, resumed. "And when we were there, in that hotel room, and we were - doing it - I didn't picture Lana at all. I didn't see Jesse. I kept thinking of Lex and what it would be like to..." 

Martha stared at his back. When had he grown up? How had she missed it over the years? He was as tall and as broad as Jonathan, a grown man, and here he was talking about love, and sex, and relationships. A part of her mind kept screaming: "He's just a little boy!" But Clark wasn't a little boy. Many boys his age had been sexually active for some time. Many boys his age had already come to realize and accept their sexual preferences. As usual, Clark was behind, and struggling, because of who and what he was, and how by protecting him, Martha and Jonathan very well may have damaged him too. 

What now, she thought. Jonathan still saw Lex as dangerous, and Martha wasn't sure about her feelings regarding Lex Luthor either. Clark couldn't reveal his secrets, and could he establish a relationship with Lex, or anyone for that matter, without revelations? 

"Have you said anything to Lex?" 

Clark shook his head. "But I want to, I want to so bad it hurts." He turned around. "I don't want to tell him everything, I can't, but this..." 

"And what if he doesn't feel the same way, Clark, what then?" 

He looked decidedly pained. "Then I just move on I guess," he whispered. 

Martha's words were soft, hesitant, but necessary. "And if he does?" 

The light returned to Clark's eyes. His expression was just short of beatific. "I'll do what I can to make it work, without revealing anything. I want this, Mom, more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, even - even being normal." 

She rose, and went to him, putting her hand on his chest. "Are you sure, Clark? Are you sure?" 

"Yes." 

Martha studied his face, touching it lightly with her fingertips. "Then you should tell him. But," she added. "Only after a good night's rest." 

* * *

It was nine a.m. when Martha Kent walked into Lex Luthor's mansion. Clark was in school. Jonathan had gone to the co-op and wasn't due back until after lunch. Lex was surprised to see her, and his pale brows dipped low over his eyes as he rose to guide her to a chair. Always the gentleman, he made sure she was comfortable before taking his seat again behind the sleek, glass topped desk. 

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Kent, you know my door is always open to you and your family." 

"I need to ask you a question, Lex, and I want you to be honest when you answer it. If you can't, I will go." 

There was only a slight hesitation. "Sure," he said quietly. "What is the question?" 

"Are you in love with my son?" 

He looked startled, but only for a second, before leaning back in his chair with a completely neutral expression. "What makes you ask that?" 

"He's in love with you." Martha said bluntly, and was rewarded by seeing Lex poleaxed for the second time in less than five minutes. 

He laughed slightly, nervously, and looked away from her. "I've been the subject of infatuation before, but I must admit, this is a new twist. Are you sure?" 

She nodded. "He told me last night. I told him he should talk to you about it." 

The grey eyes shot back to her. "You did?" 

Martha raised her chin slightly, as if in challenge. "Yes, I did. It's very obviously bothering him. He's not sleeping, he's listless, depressed..." 

"He went through a lot very recently, Mrs. Kent. It's a side effect...." 

"He found out a lot of things about himself during that little episode, Lex. Some of those things were unpleasant, some strengthened him, and others..." She shrugged. "I know my son. He's serious about this, and I know what love looks like. This is more than his crush on Lana." 

"I don't know what to say." 

"Answer the question." Martha demanded. 

He regarded her solemnly. "So you can be a buffer?" 

She nodded. "I don't want him to get hurt." 

"Neither do I." 

"Then we're on the same page, and you don't have anything to fear by telling me the truth. Are you in love with my son?" 

He didn't answer. 

"I saw the look in your eyes, Lex, that day in the barn. You weren't hiding it then, why are you hiding it now?" 

Lex lowered his eyes, and the small smile played upon his lips. "Because I don't want Clark to get hurt." 

"He won't if you're honest with him." 

"And if he's not honest with me?" Lex stared at her. "A one sided relationship never works out, Mrs. Kent." 

She pursed her lips. "What he can't reveal, Lex, is intrinsic to who he is, and to have him confide in you leaves him vulnerable to more than just hurt from a broken relationship. Furthermore it would put you at risk, and he would sacrifice himself to save you. Do you want that? You just said you don't want him to get hurt." 

"Never..." 

"A one-sided relationship can work if there is trust. You demand that he trust you with secrets. Why can't you trust him when he tells you he'd can't reveal his secrets to you? It's not necessarily a completely open and honest relationship that works out the best, Lex, but one made up of give and take. Show him he can trust you, and one day maybe he can tell you more." 

"White lies." Lex murmured. 

Martha nodded. "Nothing, even love, is spread out in black and white. Love is like business; there are losses, and gains. You get what you pay for, and if you want Clark, you'll have to pay for him by accepting what he can give you." She looked at him, gave him a hard stare. "Is he worth it to you?" 

The grey eyes shifted, changed, and Martha saw in them what she'd seen in the barn, and the answer to her question. 

"Yes," he said softly. 

Standing, Martha hid the shaking of her hands by bracing them on the back of her chair. "Then tell him." 

Lex looked up at her inquisitively. "Am I understanding this conversation correctly, Mrs. Kent? Are you formally giving me permission to woo your son?" 

"Woo?" Martha laughed. "If that's what you want to call it." 

"Your husband?" 

She sobered immediately. "Cannot know. It will send him over the edge. The price for my acquiescence is your promise of discretion, and..." 

He prompted her with his eyes. 

"Don't let Clark get hurt," she whispered. "I just want him to be happy, and if he's happy with you, I can't say no to it." 

Lex stared up at her, then nodded. "If more parents were like you, Mrs. Kent, I think the world would be a better place." He stood up and glided around the edge of his desk to where she stood, and kissed her cheek gently. "You have my word." 

Martha nodded, satisfied, and went home. 

She spent the day baking, fretting over whether she had made the correct choice in supporting a relationship between Clark and Lex. Her own words, "I just want him to be happy," kept coming back to her. It wasn't just Clark, either, she wanted to find happiness. She knew Lionel Luthor, and she saw through Lex's masks. He was bitterly unhappy. Would a relationship with Clark save him from what he desperately wanted to avoid: becoming his father? 

When Clark came home from school Martha had made up both her mind and a basket. The latter she presented to Clark, and she told him it was to be sent over to the Luthor mansion. It was filled with cookies and muffins, the fruits of her days labor. 

"Two bachelor men alone in that dreary house need some home baked muffins," she said. 

Jonathan snorted. "They have a chef, Martha." 

"So?" She pressed the basket into Clark's hands. "You look like Little Red Riding Hood in that jacket." 

Clark laughed. "I just hope I don't meet up with the Big Bad Wolf." 

"I don't think you will," she said, and caressed his cheek. "Go on," she urged, and kissed him. 

His smile was coy, but he obeyed. 

He didn't come home until nearly midnight, and when he came in, discovering her sitting on the sofa waiting for him, his face flushed. Martha watched him shed his jacket across the newel post of the stairs as he gathered himself for their meeting. He was not only flushed, but slightly breathless, and she did not think it was from running all the way home. Such a distance would not leave him breathless. 

"Well?" 

"We just talked." 

Martha nodded, but she saw a peculiar gleam in his eyes she'd not seen there before. "And?" 

A shrug, and the blush deepened. "Mostly talked." 

She saw the suppressed smile, and hid her own behind her mug as she sipped at some hot cocoa. "I put your dinner in the oven. Do your homework and go to bed. If your grades slip because of this, I'll have to step in, got it?" 

He nodded vigorously. "Got it." 

"And not a word to your father." 

He made a sealed lips gesture, but his face cracked into a pleased grin as he trotted into the kitchen. Martha could hear him whistling softly as he pulled his supper out of the oven. 

She turned the sound back up on the television and went back to watching her movie. It was The King and I, one of her favorites. She smiled at the song being sung beneath a darkened sky, and thought of young lovers. There had been a time when Martha had been having an affair with a handsome young man, of whom her parents disapproved. She knew what it was like to have to kiss in the shadows. 

<i>We kiss in a shadow,   
We hide from the moon,   
Our meetings are few,  
And over too soon.   
We speak in a whisper,   
Afraid to be heard;   
When people are near,   
We speak not a word.   
Alone in our secret,   
Together we sigh,   
For one smiling day to be free   
To kiss in the sunlight   
And say to the sky:   
"Behold and believe what you see!   
Behold how my lover loves me!" </i>


End file.
